


Whispers in the dark

by BehindBrokenWindows



Category: Black Sails
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Silverflint Summer Challenge, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BehindBrokenWindows/pseuds/BehindBrokenWindows
Summary: Written for Silverflint summer challengePrompt: Silver asks Flint to tell him, in detail, about he and Thomas' relationship while they're having sex.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 12
Kudos: 111





	Whispers in the dark

There was an aspect about this journey into the dark with Flint that stayed at the edge of John’s mind for so long he was beginning to think it had nothing to do with their connection at all, despite the way it nagged at it, gnawed at him, bothered him constantly until he finally, _finally_ understood what it was.

John had given very little thought to the idea of _sodomy_ in his life. He knew what happened in dark corners on ships, he knew what priests did to young boys, he knew that some men simply didn’t want women. He had never looked at Flint and thought that he probably did not want women, and to be fair that was a correct assumption, but only half a truth. That Flint willingly offered this information, told him _I once loved a man_ , was as surprising as the information itself, and beyond John’s immediate ability to comprehend.

The _idea_ of something was so different from the reality of it. He knew that some men had each other, but he could not imagine Flint gently, willingly, spreading his legs for another man. And perhaps that was a disservice to Flint and what he’d had with Thomas Hamilton because there was so much more than that, there was all this _love_. Before it turned to become the most destructive force in the New World. Surely the love must have been as deep, as burning, as real as what it had been twisted into.

He didn’t have time to think about what Flint had told him before two days after the battle. Until then he had barely had time to sleep, and certainly not think about memories that weren’t his, love he hadn’t been a part of.

But then he was suddenly alone, and like a shock he realised what the feeling was, the one that had grown on him steadily and become a companion on his descent into the dark. Attraction. Not only to it, but to _him_. To the man he saw before him as much as the mind he delved into. Flint was – fuck, when Flint looked at him across that fire, John had gotten a glimpse, just a glimpse of what the sweetness of love might have looked like on him. And he realised that Flint was a strikingly handsome man, and he wanted him.

John hadn’t had a man before, hadn’t considered it, hadn’t wanted it. It simply hadn’t been an option. When he realised this attraction, it reared its head with a burning need the like of which he’d never felt before in his life. And then Flint had invited him to _spar_ with him. To cross swords, to play in the sand atop a hill, alone, secluded.

 _You’re still watching my eyes_.

John Silver had never wanted to kiss anyone as much in his entire life.

He didn’t need to seduce him, didn’t need to step carefully at all. Once he realised the depth of his own desire, he saw it reflected back at him in Flint’s eyes.

 _Go_ , Madi had told him, so he had.

He knocked on Flint’s door, trying to convince himself of his own confidence. It wavered at the sound of approaching steps from the room beyond. It was dark, night really, but Flint had not been sleeping.

He opened the door just enough to look outside and reveal his own shirtless state.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. No, I uh. Can I come in?” Flint opened the door further, enough to let him hop inside. Flint’s naked chest was gleaming with water in the candlelight. He grabbed his shirt from the back of a chair with suspicious eyes and was about to pull it over his head when John stopped him. The furrow in Flint’s forehead only deepened, so John hopped closer, threw the shirt to the floor and ghosted his fingers over Flint’s scarred shoulder. Tremors went through him at the touch.

“Silver,” the warning in Flint’s voice was unmistakable. “Is this just because –”

“No.” Flint’s hair was sharp beneath his touch, but his lips were warm and soft and yielding. Flint just let it happen, contrary to John’s every expectation. He’d expected half-hearted refusals at the least, or mutterings about how this was not a good idea. He had not expected Flint to open his mouth so easily to his tongue, to angle his head just slightly to fit their mouths together more fully. The gentleness was crippling.

“I didn’t think you liked men,” Flint muttered and took half a step backwards. John was momentarily wary, but Flint had pulled back simply to look at him as he pulled the tie from his hair.

“Me neither,” he admitted. Flint’s fingers were thick in John’s hair, his thumb calloused against John’s cheek. “Can you trust that I know myself well enough to be here? To believe that this is not just an experiment or a manipulation?” Flint’s eyes drank him in, fluttering all over his face, his hair, flicked down to his chest where it peeked from his shirt. And all the while John did the same because he’d had a taste of Flint’s lips and it had done nothing but deepen his hunger.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

*

John felt – new. There was no better word for it. Like he’d rediscovered himself, remade himself with the knowledge that men could love, could pleasure, could _feel_ this with each other.

Flint was lying naked on the bed, one leg pulled up, completely relaxed and sated. _His world_ had clearly not been turned on its head. _Of course not_ , John thought. It was obviously not the first time he’d sucked cock. He was playing with John’s hair, which was thick with sweat by now. He’d had to sit up on the edge of the bed to get some relief from the stifling heat. For a moment he’d debated whether showing Flint his back would make the man anxious about what they’d just done, but then Flint was looking so completely relaxed about the entire situation he figured it would be alright.

“Well, you’ve clearly done this before,” John said, just to say something, really. Flint huffed, pulling at his hair.

“You were not so bad, considering you’ve never done it before.” Playful. Flint was being playful with him. John stifled a chuckle, but he couldn’t help the smile. A soft feeling bloomed in his chest and coloured his cheeks and he turned to look at Flint just so the man could see this, see what he did to him.

“Why, thank you captain. I’d never expected such high praise from an experienced man like yourself.” Flint tugged on his hair a bit harder this time, before his hand splayed hot and hard against John’s lower back, tracing indiscernible patterns into his skin. “I imagined you did more than just this, with your lord.”

“Hmpf. You imagine, do you?” Flint’s returning smile was so open, the way he raised his eyebrows and looked almost delighted.

“Well, I have heard rumours about the things men do to each other behind closed doors, I can’t deny some measure of curiosity.”

“You’ve really never done this before?” Flint wondered. “And yet you sit there like you’re not offering yourself up for the taking, not even knowing the things I might do to you, if you let me?”

John shrugged. “I trust you.”

“You’ve never even been touched –”

“Is that what you want to do?” John wondered. “Touch me? _Everywhere_?” He swung himself back onto the bed, crawling onto all fours above Flint’s outstretched body, caging him. Flint’s hand curled around his thigh, fingers slipping up the inside of it, caressing his sack from behind before he squeezed his arse.

“You’re not shy,” was all Flint said in return before he slid his hand up the length of John’s body then pressed his forefinger against John’s lips. He felt a bit ridiculous, opening his mouth for Flint’s finger, especially as the man looked at him with such a considering expression.

He knew, theoretically, why Flint was wetting his finger in his mouth, but he still tensed when he felt his finger tracing the crack of his arse. He found he needed to talk, to relieve himself of the tension building inside him.

“Is this what he did to you, the first time? Was he as gentle as you are now, or had he wanted you for so long he couldn’t hold himself back?” Flint laughed as he pushed the tip of his finger against, then inside John’s rim. Oh, but _fuck him_. His elbows trembled as he held himself up.

“I saw Thomas lose control once during our acquaintance, and that was when he was shouting at his father. He was much gentler than I could ever be. Unless you want to switch. I don’t mind if you’d rather fuck me.” _Oh fuck – fuck Flint_. John had to shake the thought from his head.

Flint must’ve taken it for refusal, because he manhandled John into the mattress then rose from the bed. John, allowing himself because what better time than now, admired the sight of his arse as he walked across the room. It was paler than the rest of him, firm and strong and suddenly John got the urge to bite it.

He returned with a vial of oil and a hand on his cock. He stopped beside the bed, fisted his cock not too far from Silver’s head. It quickened before his eyes.

The sight was – new. He’d had that in his mouth, John thought, but he hadn’t really looked at him. His cockhead was soon glistening wet every time it peeked from Flint’s foreskin. John knew the taste of him. It was almost hypnotising, the steady pull, back and forth, Flint’s freckled fist then Flint’s red cockhead.

“Is that what he liked to do to you? Your lord? Did he like to… fuck you?” He could still not reconcile the idea with the man he saw before him, even now when he’d _seen_ Flint moaning around a mouthful of cock.

He couldn’t tell whether the expression on Flint’s face was a grin or a grimace before the man flipped him onto his front, and before John could move or offer any form of protest, Flint’s entire weight was pressing into him. Flint’s cock was dragging wetly over his arse and John _shivered_. “If this is you trying to talk your way out of this, you have to tell me.” Was it? Was that what he was doing? The way his cock was twitching against the bed said otherwise. “Because I’m not doing this unless I know you want it too.” Flint started to pull away, but then John’s hand shot out and grabbed his arse as best he could, squeezing.

“No. No, please. I want this.”

He could hear the toothy grin in Flint’s voice when he said: “that’s what I told him too. _Please, m’lord, please fuck me. I want it, please_.” John had to bury his face in the pillow to hide how his face burned at the words, spoken like that, so intimately into his ear. What had he looked like, back then? Had he looked as wrecked as John felt just now? Had he been squirming in his own skin like John was doing?

Flint was kissing his neck, distracting him as he fumbled with the oil. John arched after him when Flint pulled back, but then there was a finger in his arse, and he choked on his own tongue.

It was – _fuck_ , it was the strangest thing he’d ever felt.

“He told me to relax,” Flint muttered. He was stroking John’s hair. “To unclench, to breathe. Can you breathe for me, John? Good.” Flint was moving his finger in and out of him in small, soft movements, massaging his entrance. As the initial discomfort faded, John began to appreciate the action. He pulled his leg up a bit, swallowing his own nervousness as he offered himself. “Can you take another?”

“I think – I think so.”

“Relax, John. Trust me.” Flint sat up behind him, but John barely registered it. Then Flint was stroking his side and kissing down his spine with such gentleness John thought he would melt into the mattress. He let go of everything, and simply _felt_.

“I trust you,” he muttered. He tensed again, when Flint’s mouth found the crease of John’s arse, and truly he hadn’t thought – he was too distracted to notice when Flint pushed a second finger into him.

“He liked to take his time,” Flint told him, breath hot over John’s skin. His cock was leaking against the back of John’s thigh, John felt it bobbing there, dragging over his skin. How could such a simple thing drive him to distraction like this? He was twitching for it, yet straining for Flint’s voice in his ear. “He always said that everything worth doing was worth waiting for. What he meant was that he was a fucking tease, loved to watch me writhing on the bed when he hadn’t even touched my cock yet.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” John whimpered into the pillow, writhing on Flint’s fingers, desperate to feel him deeper, and then – then, his fingers grazed _something_ inside him that punched a cry from his chest.

“There you are,” Flint said and massaged the spot until John couldn’t fucking breathe. Flint pulled his fingers out and stroked his sides like he was calming a horse. He returned with three fingers but refused to push inside until John was begging him for it.

“You think you can take me?” Flint asked, rubbing his cock along John’s arse with purpose this time, fucking into the muscle of his arse.

“Oh fuck, oh _please_ , captain, please.”

“Have you ever spread your legs for anyone before, John?”

“I – no I don’t think, I.” Oh, why was Flint making him talk?

“It’s a strange feeling, spreading your legs for a man like a woman.” Flint was coaxing him around, manhandling him again because John’s muscles were being uncooperative. He felt – overwhelmed, like liquid, just floating and following Flint’s every move. “You’re so… vulnerable on your back.” Flint was towering over him, dark eyes drinking in the sigh of John like it was something precious, something to be remembered. John hadn’t felt so at ease, so relaxed, in a very long time. Flint’s large hands were on his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones. John could only blink up at him, eyelashes fluttering at the feeling. “I thought I couldn’t do it when he turned me around like this. To feel so exposed, _spreading my legs_ , opening up, inviting him to fuck me. I didn’t think I could do it.” Flint rose to his knees, fingers tracing John’s thighs and making him shiver. His fingers hooked on the backs of John’s knees and he pulled them up, John’s remaining foot pressed into the mattress beside Flint’s knees. John couldn’t look away from his eyes as Flint slid his hands to the inside of John’s knees and nudged them apart _oh so slowly_ , like he wanted John to feel that discomfort, the unease associated with being spread out and exposed in this way. He couldn’t fucking _breathe_ , trembling under Flint’s calming touch.

“In the end, I fucking loved it,” Flint purred and eased himself between John’s spread thighs, grinding them together like he had all the time in the world and John felt like he was already fucked, already filled – he reached out and snaked his arms around Flint’s torso until their chests were moulded together, until Flint had no choice but to bury his face in John’s hair. John’s legs wound around him too, pulled him closer with shaky limbs and Flint fucking moaned into his hair like he’d already sunk his cock inside him.

The feeling of burning skin against his own, of Flint’s trembling, heavy weight on top of him was almost too much, the intimacy of it felt too keenly. John wanted to devour him, to be devoured by him, to never be separated from him by another inch as long as they both drew breath.

“What else?” he managed. “What else did he do to you?”

“You want me to tell you?”

“Yes. Please.” Fuck, but at this point he was past any shame he might have felt at the confession. A smile graced Flint’s lips before he kissed him. It was slow, languid, savouring the feeling before he put just enough space between them to reach his own cock between them and coat it with the oil on his hand. The head of Flint’s cock pressed between John’s cheeks, but he just kept it there as he stroked himself, heedless of John’s mounting desperation or the way his hole ached to be filled by him.

“He pushed between my legs and he fucked me, filled me up like I’d been begging of him for what felt like _hours_. He fucked me so deep I swear to this day I could taste him at the back of my throat, feel him push against the back of my teeth. God, he fucked me like it was the only thing he wanted to do in his life.”

“Please,” John whimpered, and tried to scoot onto Flint’s cock, but the man pulled back, just a bit, traced his wet cockhead all over John’s crack.

“I loved spreading my legs for him,” Flint confessed. “I loved it when he pushed down on my thighs and spread me till it hurt, until I was completely exposed, until he could see all of me. I’d never been so embarrassed, never blushed so hard, and I fucking relished in it. He’d barely put his cock in me, and I spilled all over myself just like that, but he kept fucking me, so. Fucking. Slowly. Until I was ready again, hard and aching to be filled by his seed.”

“Come on,” John begged, “Come on captain, just – just please, just do it.” There were tears in his eyes, he realised. Flint looked down at him with that smile again and kissed the tears from the corners of his eyes, only causing even more to slip free.

Flint kissed his mouth instead, tongued inside him as his cockhead finally started sinking past John’s rim.

“ _Oh captain_ –” John’s heel dug into Flint’s arse, but the bloody man pulled out again and John wanted to fucking scream. Perhaps he would have, if Flint hadn’t pressed at his rim again, harder, coaxing him to open up even as he devoured his mouth.

“You want my cock, John? Even though you’ve never had a cock before?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yours, only yours.” He was pawing at Flint’s back, rocking against the steady press of his cock, begging with his entire being to be filled by him.

“You know what he did when he was done with me?” Flint wondered, then his cockhead slipped past John’s rim entirely and a strangled moan clawed at his throat. “He flipped me around and licked his own seed out of me, ate at me like a fucking whore until I spent again, but it was more trembling than anything because I’d already come two times just before. And still he kept licking at me, until he’d cleaned up his own mess.”

Flint sunk inside him to the hilt and John curled up to bite his own scream into Flint’s shoulder. Then _finally_ he was fucking him, rocking inside him, burying his cock in John’s arse again and again until John didn’t know what to do with his hands, until he was twisting on the bed like a man possessed, begging for more like your common whore.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good John, you feel so fucking good. I – _fuck_. He had me everywhere,” Flint panted in his ear. “He spread me open on the desk in his study, fucked me raw with his fist in my mouth to keep me quiet. _Fuck_.” Flint’s fist found its way to John’s cock and he stroked him, quick and hard. John had been so busy experiencing his entire concept of pleasure ripped to pieces he hadn’t even noticed that his own cock wasn’t hard anymore, despite – or perhaps because of – the overwhelming pleasure that was drowning him.

“He fucked me – in the library,” Flint mumbled, as John fell apart beneath his crushing weight. “He couldn’t wait – he yanked my trousers down and bent me over against the wall and took me. Right there, where anyone could have walked in on us. Just the thought of someone – _shit_ , John, shit you’re so – you’re so good, so good. Just keep going darling, just a little bit longer, come on.”

John clung to his words, held on because Flint told him to, strained for him until Flint was grinding his cock against that spot inside him and John was howling, coming to Flint’s chanted encouragements, coating their bellies with his seed until he felt completely wrung out. Flint’s balls twitched against his, then he too was coming, unloading inside him with a long, trembling moan that John swallowed because he couldn’t deny himself a last taste of the pleasure.

Flint kept grinding in little circles into him long after they were done, and John could do nothing but take it, relish in the feel of it even as Flint went limp inside him. John himself was too tired to even contemplate moving.

Their bodies were slick with sweat but Flint didn’t even try to hold himself up, he’d collapsed against John the moment he was done, eyes vacant despite the way his mouth kept kissing at John’s jaw, his ear, his neck. John held him close, stroked his back, comforted him in every way he could think. Flint gave a half-hearted groan as John dug his fingers into his skull, and John saved the information for later occasions.

“He really did all that?” John asked after a while, a tease in his tone. Flint huffed a laugh, cool against John’s flushed skin.

“Yeah, he was mad like that. Showed me things I didn’t even know were possible.” Flint’s lazy lips covered John’s again, and John was more than happy to open his mouth for him, to drown in the feeling of finally being joined in every sense of the word.

“You don’t think this was a bad idea?” John asked when Flint had slipped out of him, and his head was resting against John’s chest in utter peace. The candle had guttered out a little while ago, leaving them in darkness in the heat, the only thing connecting them to the rest of the world was the sound of crickets from the forest and the rush of the river.

“I think this will only have been a bad idea if we make it so,” Flint murmured, as if that wasn’t the scariest thing John had heard all week. _If we fail, we’ve got only ourselves to blame_. “But I trust you, and I trust myself. Alright?”

“Yeah,” John murmured, blinking back tears. “Yeah, I trust this.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, it felt a bit choppy to me, but I've had such a hard time writing this last month I had to make do with what I managed to actually write.
> 
> Kudos and comments are love <3


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